


The Mystery of Again

by meandminniemcg



Series: To Munich and Back [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Munich (Germany), POV First Person, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives, The Veil is a portal that transports someone to a random different country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: Turns out the Veil is not death but a portal to a random different country that furthermore makes someone's memory inaccessible.He has to build up a new life in Munich, Germany. His life before he fell out of the portal is a mystery to him, even his name or why he screamed "Harry! Remus!"Will he regain access to his memories?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: To Munich and Back [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869025
Kudos: 4





	The Mystery of Again

I wake up in a nondescript hospital room. Diagnosing charms are cast over me. My head hurts, and a man hands me a glass of water. I try to remember how I got there. All that comes to my mind is drifting through the dark, as if I were floating on a river, then suddenly I drifted towards a light, into a strange chamber. As my paralysis ceased, my mouth formed words, screamed them “Harry! Remus!” They are important, but I don’t remember why. Then everything faded, and the next thing I know is I’m here.

  
I sleep, I wake up and my head hurts, though somewhat less, someone gives me a bowl of soup, I eat and fall back asleep, and wake up feeling better. A warm alto voice wishes me good morning. A slight background buzz shows me that I’m under a translation charm.

“How are you today, Mr. Remus?” The brunette healer sits down on a chair beside my bed. She’s in her early to mid-forties, and her name is Healer Verena Augspurg. The way she looks at me, expecting an answer, I conclude that the Mr. Remus is supposed to be me.

“I’ve had nightmares last night.” I shudder at the thought. “There were dementors, a madwoman and a man without a nose. And they stole the most precious thing I had.”

“Do you remember more about yourself?” Healer Augspurg’s voice sounds friendly, but kind of no-nonsense. I like friendly and no-nonsense, but it also makes me sad.

“Not really. I only feel things that I can’t place. Like your voice and tone is beautiful, but it makes me sad.” I see in her face that she misinterprets it.

“Might I resemble your wife?” I knew it, she misinterprets my words.

“My wife—that sounds completely wrong. I can’t imagine having a wife.” I don’t know why I’m that sure, but although wife is a nice word, it’s one that has to do with others. It feels like a red word.

“Those feelings might indicate something. As well as your British English.” She gives me a smile that is meant to reassure me, but it’s kind of hard to be reassured when you are in a hospital and have no memory of your life. The lack of memory is to an extent that you don’t even know your own name, and people call you by a name you think is important, but you have no idea why. All you know is that it’s actually someone else’s name.

“Is there a charm or a potion to restore my memory?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry, you are most likely suffering from portal-induced amnesia. There haven’t been any cases of it in Germany since 1912, but the cases that existed are well-documented. You fell out of the portal in Alter Hof, exactly like Ekaterina Ivanovna Parnok in 1912. You became unconscious shortly after arriving here, due to a magical core exhaustion, which suggests that before falling through the portal you are likely to have gone through an awfully stressful time.” She lowered her voice. “Also, you had residue of Firewhisky abuse in your organs, because of which we cast a long term jinx on you that makes your body reject alcohol. You will feel repulsion at the thought of ingesting it.”

“You mean I’m an alcoholic?” For a second I feel locked in and holding a bottle in my hand. Then, my body takes over, my vision fades to black and white, my bones, muscles and tendons change their shape, and instead of voicing my anxiety, I whine.

“My Goodness! You’re an Animagus!” She smells of plum cake and surprise.

I transform back and sit back on my bed.

“Do you remember the name of your Animagus form, or anything else that you didn’t remember before?” She inquires.

“Dog?” I rub my hands across my face.

“That’s the species. Do you remember not giving your Animagus form an individual name, or do you think you have an Animagus name but don’t remember it?” She gives me a little time to think about it.

“I think I would have an Animagus name, but I don’t remember it. It feels like it’s connected with other people.” My eyes prickle with uncried tears. “Like I can’t reach it if I don’t even know who they are.”

“Hmmm, that’s not so unusual. Attacks on the memory often target names and faces of people. And whoever built these dark portals centuries ago tried to severe any ties a person had with their society, family and even themselves, as a way of socially killing someone without actually killing them. It’s a way of taking the ancient Greek ostrakismos to a higher level.” She pushed up her glasses. “The only known way to counteract this would be if someone from the people closest to you were to come here in full possession of their memory and you were to remember you know them.”

I flinch. They don’t even know where to search. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, and what if the people who would be missing me were obliviated of any memory of my existence, or if they were dead? My injuries upon waking up had not been of the kind that says I tripped over a loose shoelace and fell into the portal.

“I can’t promise you to find a way to restore your memory any time soon, but I can promise that I'll discuss your case with colleagues all over the world, and try our best to find a remedy.” She puts a hand on my arm.

“Healer Gerlach told me that I’ll be discharged tomorrow, but I don’t have anywhere to go.” I know that I could roll up in a hidden corner in my dog form, or have myself taken to an animal shelter, but then any attempt to have a future in my human form would be moot, as well as any hope that someone would restore my memory.

“I would like to have you spend some time in the mind healing ward, as an inpatient who is free to come and go, on condition of keeping examination appointments and not causing disruptions. Let’s say until you have found a place to stay. Although we would have to list you as a research project.” I wish I had a different option than to be a research project. But it might be my only chance to ever get my memory back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta @lovelessinmanhattan.
> 
> Heiliggeistspital is the name of a historical hospital in the center of Munich. IRL it was a hospital between 1208 and 1806. Ostrakismos: In ancient Greece ostrakismos was the practice of ostracising the person who was considered most dangerous by writing the names of people who were considered dangerous on shards of clay. The person whose name was written most was banned from the city for ten years.


End file.
